


Golden Arches

by bimmykimmy



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fast Food, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, only slightly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3889231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bimmykimmy/pseuds/bimmykimmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has been found by Steve and has been slowly getting accustomed to everyday life again. He wants to try something without Steve for once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Arches

**Author's Note:**

> A little cute thing I wrote while at work.

                Being the winter soldier doesn’t hold a candle to what lies before James Barnes now.

                “Sir?”

                He blinks, shaking his head. “W-what?”

                “I asked if you’d like fries with that.”

                “Um, sure. Yes. I think so.”

                The poor high school part-timer uses her pen to punch in the order on her computer, all the while eyeing the odd customer carefully.

                Bucky had walked into the fast food restaurant with a palpitating heart and a sweaty palm. He adorns his usual baseball cap and rather heavy clothing despite it being the middle of spring. Steve had always warned him about his metal arm—it tends to draw attention. So, Bucky took precautionary measures and dressed...well, rather excessively. Steve would say something about it, if here were here. This is the first time he’s ever gone anywhere without Steve’s guidance (read: meddling). He hadn’t told Steve about this little outing—he wanted to do it himself.

                He does not expect there to be so many people. People who stare and people who whisper. Things were a heck of a lot easier when he was just shooting guns and flipping cars. He successfully orders, however, and takes his receipt with his human hand.

                So far, so good.

Sort of.

                Bucky isn’t aware that fast food restaurants tend to have a lot of beeping noises, and the first time he hears it he jumps to his feet at a ready stance. He’s ready for the grenade to go off, of course. And of course, it does not. The whole restaurant pauses momentarily and looks at him with mild curiosity. Bucky points down to his seat, stating there was a spider.

                The place as a whole seems to accept this and continues on with its routine. There are no other hiccups until he’s gotten his food from the counter. (He made sure to make eye contact and say thank you. But, the high schooler seemed to just back away as he did.)

                The order is wrong too, but Bucky doesn’t agree with his people skills enough to do anything about it. The food is disgusting anyway. Although, he doesn’t have _too_ much to compare. His days as a brainwashed assassin consisted of freeze dried veggies and canned…everything. At least the cafeteria food at the avengers HQ is somewhat agreeable.

                He lifts the dry, plastic looking bun to his mouth and takes another bite. Before he even has a chance to chew, he’s choking on it as soon as Steve storms through the doors. Bucky attempts to act cool, inconspicuous. He can only imagine what sort of scolding he might receive.

Despite these efforts, Steve spots Bucky right away and heads straight to him. He slides into the booth and folds his hands together on the cold tabletop as Bucky thumps a fist to his chest to swallow.

“Hello,” Steve says stoically.

                “Hi,” Bucky coughs and reaches into the red cardboard box, holding out a greasy fry. “Want one?”

                Steve’s clear blue eyes seem clouded with anger; they narrow suspiciously. “What do you think you are doing?”

                Bucky looks down at his high-calorie meal and then back to Steve. “Eating?”

                This response obviously does not please Steve, considering he sighs irritably and shakes his head.

                Bucky knows he probably should be concerned over Steve’s anger, but all he’s noticed so far is how odd it is to see Steve dressed so casually. He’s seen him in civvies before, and those were usually pretty well put-together. Now, the disheveled super solider seems to have put on whatever was close and ran a hand through his hair. It’s oddly charming.

                “You know damn well what I mean,” Steve finally says under his breath. He’s staying quiet as to not disturb the peace.

                Bucky rolls his eyes, grabbing more fries and popping them in his mouth.

                “Don’t you sass me,” the peeved soldier continues, “I ordered you specifically—”

                “Ordered?!” Bucky scoffs incredulously, “So you’re giving me _orders_ now?”

                Steve’s jaw goes slack and he lowers his eyes, silent. His thumbs twiddle a bit too as he shifts in his seat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. It’s just,” He sighs again, unfolding his hands and tapping his finger to the table. “I just had no idea where you were, and I was—”

                “Angry?”

                “Worried.”

                Bucky’s eyes lift from his food, giving his friend a shocked look. “Why?”

                “Because, well, because you’ve never been outside the avengers grounds without me so,” he shifts back, leaning against the bright cushion. “I don’t know. I thought you’d be…overwhelmed.”

                “Well, I did think that computer screen beeping over there was a grenade.”

                To that, Steve laughs. It’s a lighthearted chuckle; one that Bucky seldom hears nowadays. He’d like to hear it more if he can help it.

                “I’ve come a long way, Steve,” Bucky says after a moment’s pause. “You don’t have to worry so much about me anymore. I smiled!”

                Steve looks up again and quirks an eyebrow. “You…you did?”

                “Of course, it’s _only_ polite. Right?” Bucky smirks while grabbing more fries. The things aren’t too bad once you got past the salty, greasy taste. Bucky thinks he likes what they’ve been doing to fast food since back in his day.

                “No accidents?”

                “Not even a broken car door,” Bucky boasts, taking a rather deliberate bite of another fry.

                The patrons around them don’t seem to notice their odd, little chat, and go about their business. Steve whistles, impressed, and peeks into the paper bag.

                “You got three double cheeseburgers?” He asks.

“They were supposed to be Big Macs—I had a feeling you’d come to be my chaperone. You’re welcome.”

“Well done, Buck. Well done.” Steve grabs one of the greasy, yellow paper wrapped burgers and plops it down in front of him. He doesn’t comment on how Bucky got the order to go, yet stayed in the restaurant—that’ll be a lesson for another day.

               

               

               

               


End file.
